


WiP Amnesty: SGA

by Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Community: wip_amnesty, Fisting, M/M, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-17
Updated: 2008-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For anyone who doesn't know, <a href="http://wip-amnesty.livejournal.com/profile">wip_amnesty</a> is all about letting go of never-going-to-be-finished stories. In the words of comm mod Madelyn: "post snippets or fragments or whatever you have of those stories that are just never going to do anything or be finished on your harddrive--the things you just sigh at and say, okay, YOU WIN. ALSO I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE SO THERE, and such."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Till Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> Anything in brackets is notes to myself. I do this all the time when I write, but usually the only people who get to see it are my betas. *g*
> 
> Each "chapter" here is a separate WiP.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Started during the hiatus between the first two seasons, I love this story but I can't get back into the place I was in when I was writing it.
> 
> ##  **Warning:** _Major character death_.

**Friday, 27 June 2014**

Despite the fact that they had an official appointment scheduled, Cassandra was surprised when her office door swung open to admit Dr. McKay. He'd managed to avoid every other appointment so far, and so she'd expected to have the next hour to herself.

She was actually pleased to have her plans disrupted.

"Hello, Dr. McKay," she said, getting to her feet. "It's good to see you. Please, have a seat." He sat, but he obviously didn't want to be there. "I'm glad you made it today."

McKay frowned at her. "It's not like I had a choice, Doctor," he said sharply. "I'm a prisoner of your government until such time as you reassure them that I'm not a threat."

And that was _not_ a promising beginning to the session. Cassandra resisted the urge to sigh, instead picking up McKay's personnel file and making a show of flipping through the first few sheets of the two-inch-thick stack of papers. After a minute she looked up to find him sitting tensely in the chair, arms crossed and glaring at her. She couldn't help comparing him to the photo in his file. There were all of the expected signs of aging--the hair at his temples shot through with silver, his hairline receding, new lines etched around his eyes and mouth--but that wasn't the most striking change. The photo showed a man with the hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, his eyes shining with intelligence and amusement, but the eyes that stared across her desk were hard and cold, and she had a difficult time imagining him smiling at all.

"This is for your own good, Dr. McKay," she said, matter-of-factly, her gut instinct telling her that gentleness would get her nowhere with him. "Every returning member of the Atlantis team was required to undergo counseling; you've been in a highly stressful environment without trained psychiatric care for nearly a decade."

"Of course," McKay sneered at her, "because human beings aren't at all resilient. Whatever did the species do in the thousands of years before Freud and his psychobabble?"

Not a promising beginning at all.

"Please, Dr. McKay, I'm not your enemy. My job is to make sure you're okay." Before she'd finished the sentence she realized that tack was entirely the wrong one, so she changed gears. "And as you so accurately pointed out, you're stuck until I say you're cleared. It would be in your best interests to cooperate with me, don't you think?"

Better. McKay sighed and his expression changed from actively hostile to something approaching resigned.

"What would you like me to talk about, Dr. Fraiser?"

~ * ~ * ~

  
**Wednesday, 2 July 2014**

It was their third session and Cassandra felt they were finally getting somewhere. She'd been close to giving up on McKay, maybe passing his file on to a colleague better suited to dealing with his vitriolic personality, but her inherent stubbornness seemed to have served her well. McKay had become slightly more forthcoming about his experiences in Pegasus, and while she knew already that he was far from ready to be cleared for duty--or reintegration into Earth society, which she felt was more likely to be the path he'd choose--at least he was talking.

And fiddling with the ring on his left ring finger, apparently unconsciously.

She nodded thoughtfully and posed another leading question, then listened with half an ear while flipping through his personnel records. His marital status was listed as single. That was definitely a query for next session.

"Was that your first time in combat?"

He nodded slowly, gaze fixed on some point over her right shoulder. "The science team went through boot camp, courtesy of the SGC, but.... It's not really the same thing, is it?"

No, it really wasn't. Cassandra could remember her first combat experience vividly. "It must have been very difficult for you--"

"I don't need sympathy from someone who can't possibly have any real grasp of the things we went through," he snapped, and Cassandra could feel the little bit of rapport they had built slipping away.

It was...unorthodox, to say the least, but her gut told her that the only way she was going to help him--to get him to talk about the important things--was to gain his respect and trust. It wasn't much of a stretch to make her tone harsh, tinged with anger. "I _grasp_ more than you think, Dr. McKay. My people were slaughtered by the Goa'uld when I was a child; I was the only survivor, spared so I could serve as a living bomb intended to destroy Earth's stargate."

She knew he'd had access to all of the SGC mission reports, but it wasn't until she saw the dawning realization in his eyes that she was sure he'd read the ones that pertained to her. _Yes,_ she thought wryly, _I'm_ that _Cassandra Fraiser. Thank you for playing._

He didn't apologize, which was just as well--she wasn't looking for sympathy, any more than he was--but he didn't snap at her again, either.

~ * ~ * ~

  
**Friday, 4 July 2014**

She got a better look at the ring when he took the proffered cup of coffee with his left hand; it was intricately carved, a silver band made to look like some kind of twining plant similar to ivy.

Straightforward was a much more effective approach when dealing with him, so she asked, "Is that a wedding band, Dr. McKay?"

His gaze darted to the ring, then into the depths of the coffee mug, and she let him have whatever time he needed to answer. After a minute, he said quietly, "Yes."

Matching his quiet tone, she said, "Your personnel file makes no mention of a wife. Would you like to talk about her?"

"Husband," he corrected sharply, pinning her with the now-familiar glare, daring her to make something of the revelation. "And no, I wouldn't like to talk about him."

It shouldn't have been a surprise; she'd counseled other same-sex couples coming back from Atlantis, after all, and part of the agreement between the UN and the Independent Nation State of Atlantis included the Atlantians' right to retain their INSA citizenship and any legal status that conveyed. Still, he'd thrown her a curve and it took a moment for her to regroup and find another question for him.

"All right, you don't have to talk about it right now," she said. "Why don't we go back to your early combat experiences. Would you like to talk about what happened with Dr. Gall?"

She could see that he didn't particularly want to discuss that, either, but he took a drink of his coffee and said, "That was just the first of many times a friend died in front of me and I couldn't do a damned thing about it." His voice was tight and angry and she knew they were once again making progress.

~ * ~ * ~

  
**Sunday, 6 July 2014**

"On Friday you mentioned the _Daedalus_. I've read the mission reports, but I'd like to hear the more personal side of what happened."

McKay was silent for a long time, so long that Cassandra thought she might have to try a different question. Just as she was getting ready to move on, he said, "The _Daedalus_ was the best thing and the worst thing that happened to us, I think."

Cassandra relaxed a little and made a note on her pad. "In what way?"

"Well, it arrived in the nick of time, saving us from what were inarguably overwhelming odds. All of our plans had failed and the situation was pretty much hopeless. All I could do was stand by and watch him make a stupid, desperate suicide run at the Wraith ships." McKay's voice was rough with emotion and Cassandra could tell there was more to the story than that, but she was willing to let him talk about it in his own time. "And then the _Daedalus_ appeared...." He let the sentence trail off.

"...and saved the day," she finished for him. She had seen enough last-minute rescues in her life to appreciate the emotion of the moment.

He nodded, his eyes closed and his fingers white around the ever-present coffee mug. "John's salvation, and mine."

She debated for half a second before asking, "John?"

"General John Sheppard. My husband."

Instinct told her not to pursue it right now, so she went back to the original topic, asking, "So that was what made the _Daedalus_ the best thing that happened to you, but what made it the worst?"

The humorless snort of laughter surprised her. "That should be obvious," he said. "It was our last hope of getting back to Earth, and when it was destroyed in the battle with the Wraith hive ships...." He shrugged. "Some people gave up. We knew there were sixty or more Wraith ships headed toward Atlantis; when it had taken the combined might of Earth's flagship and the Ancients' last defense satellite to destroy just three hive ships, only a fool would believe we could persevere in the face of those odds." She would have expected the words to be bitter, but McKay's tone was tinged with a hint of affection. "An optimistic fool."

~ * ~ * ~

  
**Wednesday, 9 July 2014**

After their previous session, Cassandra had looked up the personnel file of General Sheppard, hoping it would give her some insight into Rodney McKay. She was more than a little surprised at what she found; his USAF record was a laundry list of insubordination and impulsive actions, but according to Dr. Weir's notes, he had become a strong and responsible military leader in the years that followed the destruction of the _Daedalus_. He had been the Atlantian Air Force's Chief of Staff at the time of his death, on 20 December 2009.

Four and a half years and, as far as Cassandra could tell, McKay hadn't really begun to go through the grieving process yet.

"I read through General Sheppard's file," she said once McKay had taken the mug from her and was seated.

Surprisingly, he didn't glare, but simply nodded. "I expected as much. Did you find anything interesting?" he asked, and she could see that he was tensed, as if waiting for a physical blow.

"Dr. Weir seemed to be extremely impressed with his leadership abilities."

And there was the tiny smile she'd seen in his file photo, tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, well, she was always little bit biased when it came to John," he said, taking a drink of his coffee. "She let him get away with things that anyone else would've been flayed alive for trying." Just as Cassandra was about to prompt him for details, he continued, "Me, too, for that matter. John and I got in more trouble together, and yet Elizabeth.... Anyway, don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that he _wasn't_ a brilliant military leader and strategist, just that he was also kind of Governor's pet."

She hadn't planned to dig too deeply today, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity offered by an apparently talkative McKay. "You must have loved him a great deal."

"I do. John is...he was a remarkable man," he said, not quite shutting down the conversation but certainly giving no indication that he planned to continue it, either.

Cassandra tried another direction. "Your file lists your marital status as single, as does his. I'm a little confused by that."

"We were married just after Elizabeth decided Atlantis should form its own, independent, government," McKay said. "There were no laws in place governing marriage; in the beginning Elizabeth took license applications on a case-by-case basis."

This time McKay's silence held more introspection than finality, so Cassandra let time pass without interrupting his thoughts and she was rewarded for her patience when he started to speak again. "Elizabeth thought that declaring independence was the only realistic way to function so far away from home, and I think she was right. Some people felt it was a sign that she'd given up on ever getting back to Earth, but John was always convinced we'd make it someday. Even though our marriage was legal in Pegasus, it would've destroyed his military career back on Earth; I wouldn't let them put it into either of our records, just in case his unfounded optimism turned out not to be so unfounded."

~ * ~ * ~

  
**Friday, 11 July 2014**

"Tell me about the Genii."

She had expected a response--possibly even a hostile one--from him, but she hadn't been prepared for the return of the glare and the silent treatment.

She tried again. "Dr. McKay, I'm not here to judge your actions or those of the INSA military. I'm simply concerned about your mental state; post-traumatic stress disorder is a common result of situations such as yours."

He leaned back in the chair and swirled his coffee idly. "At the risk of sounding melodramatic," he said, "the Genii were evil incarnate. They lied to everyone, they double-crossed us on more occasions than I can count, and they would do anything to survive--including throwing the rest of us to the lions."

"The mission reports I read certainly painted them as self-serving," she allowed.

He snorted. "You don't know the half of it. About two months after the _Daedalus_ was destroyed, we went on a trade mission to what we thought was a friendly planet. When we stepped through the stargate, we were surrounded by Genii soldiers. Aiden nearly bled to death from his wounds and John received a blow to the head so severe that it had Carson worrying about the possibility of brain damage. Of course, I didn't find any of that out until later; the Genii kidnapped me and held me prisoner, forcing me to work on their weapons program." He paused for a drink and when he continued his voice was quieter than before. "It took John nearly a year to find me and break me out."

She was finding the things he didn't say to be nearly as telling as the things he did. "How did the Genii treat you while you were their prisoner?"

"As well as can be expected. They didn't torture me, if that's what you're asking. They didn't have to," he said, staring into his mug. "They told me they'd convinced Elizabeth I was dead. I couldn't expect rescue, and so it was either work with them or be dumped on an uninhabited planet to live as long as my survival skills allowed.

"When he finally came, I almost didn't believe it was him. Especially not after he kissed me." Cassandra was relieved to see the return of the small smile. "He said he was the knight in shining BDUs, come to rescue the kidnapped Prince, and so the least he deserved was a suitably fairy-tale reward. Idiot," he said, affectionately.

She took a chance. "And that was the beginning of your relationship?"

"Yes. A slightly rocky beginning, but a beginning."

~ * ~ * ~

  
**Monday, 14 July 2014**

This time she didn't even have to ask. As soon as McKay sat down, he said, "He proposed on Valentine's Day."

"That's very romantic," she said, not sure where he was planning to take the conversation, but willing to go along for the ride.

"Ridiculously so. I have no intention of telling you anything more about it except that there were red and pink balloons involved--I have _no_ idea where he found balloons, by the way--and that he somehow managed to talk Elizabeth into giving us three straight days off."

She let herself smile at him. "It sounds like the two of you were very happy," she said.

He nodded. "Most of the time, yes."

~ * ~ * ~

  
**Thursday, 17 July 2014**

"Your wedding ring is beautiful; it's very unique."

"John had them custom-made by an Athosian craftsman." She raised her eyebrow questioningly and McKay continued wryly, "Not too many mall jewelry shops in Pegasus, Doctor."


	2. The Market-Place and the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheppard/McKay-ish.
> 
> This is kinda almost finished-ish. Sorta. I was never quite happy with it, though I'm much happier now than I was before John Blonde (filenotch) got his hands on it. Since I'm not writing SGA anymore, there's little to no chance of me tinkering with it further and _becoming_ happy with it, so I'm letting it go.
> 
> Oh, also? It was written back in the day, before we were given a canonical first name for Lorne, so a lot of the plot revolves around his name being Nick.

_Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation._  
\--George Washington

For once in his life, Rodney was glad to be allergic to citrus, glad for the paranoia that kept him from even tasting the pale yellow beverage served at the conclusion of their negotiations. At the time, he'd merely thought it looked too much like lemonade--so much so that he couldn't even bring the cup close enough to smell.

As he sat in the small hut, Colonel Sheppard's shivering body lying on the floor beside him, Rodney vowed to write a thank-you note to his mother for her incessant nagging and freaking out throughout his childhood. He was the only one on the team who was still lucid, still rational. Possibly still able to get them all out of this crazy village alive and unharmed.

Not that he had much to work with, as he and Sheppard were alone in one hut while Teyla and Ronon were in another. Their hosts had stripped them all of anything even remotely useful, including shoes and socks. In just his BDUs and tee-shirt, Rodney was beginning to feel the evening chill. Sheppard shivered again and moaned, obviously more affected by the cold.

Rodney pushed himself to his feet, his legs already slightly numb from sitting on the ground for the last however long it had been--he had no idea how long, because they'd taken his watch, too--and went to the door of the hut.

"Hello! Anyone out there? We could use some blankets in here, unless you'd like to wake up to hostage-sicles in the morning." He waited a second. "Hello?"

Sheppard's second cry was louder, and Rodney moved back to crouch at his side, brushing sweat-damp hair back from Sheppard's clammy forehead. "Colonel?" he said softly, wanting to make sure Sheppard was okay, but at the same time not really wanting to disturb him. "Sheppard?"

Strong fingers wrapped around his wrist when he tried to move his hand away, and Sheppard's eyes opened. His pupils were huge, just pools of black barely ringed with green, and Rodney was reminded strongly of hash brownies and grad-school parties as Sheppard blinked up at him and said, "Nikki?"

"It's me, Rodney," Rodney said, feeling silly. He tried again to pull away, but Sheppard's fingers tightened--just this side of painfully--on his wrist.

"I'm sorry," Sheppard said, pulling Rodney's hand closer and planting a gentle kiss on his palm that made Rodney's breath catch. "I know we can't, but I miss--" Sheppard didn't say what he missed. Instead he kissed Rodney's palm again, and he could feel the tip of Sheppard's tongue trace a short curve.

Rodney didn't know what to say. As if the situation weren't already awkward enough, Sheppard thought he was someone else. Whoever this Nikki was, she was obviously someone Sheppard had been intimate with, and more than that Rodney honestly did not want to know. He didn't even want to even know as much as he did, but it was a little late for that.

This was heading quickly toward being the worst mission ever.

Sheppard reached up with his free hand to stroke Rodney's cheek, and Rodney could feel Sheppard's cool fingers tremble slightly against his skin. He froze for a second before covering Sheppard's hand with his own and gently pulling it away. "We're still on M4X-889," he said, his voice sounding far calmer than he'd expected, considering that his heart was doing a tango in his chest. "You've been drugged."

"It's weird, you know, seeing you again after so many years," Sheppard continued as if he hadn't heard a word Rodney said. "It was like you dropped off the face of the Earth. And now there you are, and I don't how to react anymore. I'm not the same guy I was back in Pensacola."

It was the longest speech Rodney had heard from Sheppard outside of a mission briefing. His knees were starting to complain, and it was pretty clear that he was going to be here for a while unless he was prepared to fight Sheppard to get his hand back, so he shifted carefully until he was sitting on the ground. Sheppard's thumb rubbed idle circles on the inside of his wrist, the touch more intimate than Rodney had ever let himself imagine might pass between them.

He pushed the thoughts--the _desires_ \--away, reminding himself that it didn't mean anything. Sheppard was thinking about 'Nikki' and not about Rodney, and Rodney couldn't let himself forget it. He'd managed to keep whatever it was he felt—want? need?--under control for nearly two years, had cultivated Sheppard's friendship because that was as much as he could allow himself to want. He wasn't going to fuck it up now.

"Things happen. You manage to not die enough times and it gets harder to lie. Teyla sees it, I think, like she's looking through me, and it's not just her. I catch McKay looking, too."

Rodney's breath caught at that, because he could swear he'd been discreet, that he hadn't said or done anything that might make Sheppard--or anyone else--suspicious, but apparently he was wrong. He'd have to be even more careful from now on.

Sheppard licked his lips and continued, "Then there's Ronon. Ronon's a good guy. He'd keep my secrets. Teyla and Rodney would, too. My team's the best."

The quiet words made something knot up in Rodney's stomach. He'd never really cared about fitting in before. Fitting in was for people with no imagination and no intelligence. It was for people who weren't brilliant, people who weren't Rodney McKay. Suddenly, though, fitting in wasn't such a bad thing at all, and the knowledge that Sheppard thought of him as a part of his team, on par with Teyla and Ronon, well, that was warming in a way Rodney hadn't expected.

Sheppard fell silent, his eyes drifting closed, and Rodney hoped maybe he was falling asleep, but no such luck because a moment later he shivered and then tugged on Rodney's wrist. "C'mere," he said, and his words were more slurred than they had been before. "I'm cold."

Rodney hesitated for a second, and then gave in when Sheppard tugged on his wrist once more before letting go. He was cold, too; maybe they'd be warmer together. Stretching out on the dirt floor, he scooted forward until he could wrap his arms around Sheppard's shoulders and pull him closer.

Sheppard burrowed against him, pressing in tight, and Rodney couldn't miss the unmistakable hardness of an erection against his thigh. He focused on taking slow, measured breaths, and on thinking about the Wraith and the Goa'uld and his grade five teacher, all of which helped prevent him from reciprocating in a way that would probably get him decked once Sheppard was in his right mind again.

"I missed this," Sheppard said into Rodney's chest. "Women just aren't the same, you know?"

And this must be what a heart attack felt like, Rodney thought as the breath stuttered out of him and steel bands tightened on his chest, because Jesus, it was _Nicky_ , not Nikki. Before he could pull himself together enough to do anything or say anything, Sheppard ground himself against Rodney's thigh and then Rodney was well on his way to being equally hard.

"Just this once, okay? For old time's sake?" Sheppard said, his mouth pressed against Rodney's collarbone, his breath hot and damp through Rodney's shirt. "No one has to know," he mumbled. "Say yes, please." Sheppard's hand stroked firmly down his flank to rest on Rodney's hipbone, and with his mouth he moved aside the collar of the tee-shirt to lick where Rodney's shoulder met his neck.

Rodney wasn't particularly good at denying himself things he wanted, especially things he wanted as much as he wanted Sheppard, who was practically begging now, but this was a bad idea on so many levels. Half an hour ago, he might have given in, but the newfound awareness of Sheppard's esteem was a hell of a lot of incentive to keep from fucking things up.

"No," Rodney whispered, closing his eyes. Sometimes he hated doing the right thing.

"Come on," Sheppard wheedled. "It'll be okay, trust me." He stroked Rodney's side and stomach, making small petting motions that Rodney suspected were meant to soothe. "Elizabeth likes you; she'd never let them court-martial you."

Rodney's eyes flew open at that and he stared blindly forward, so many thoughts whirling around in his head that even he couldn't keep track of them all. One thing was clear: Sheppard's 'Nicky' was on Atlantis and in the military. Rodney was lousy with names, but he was pretty sure he didn't remember a Nicky. It had to be a recent arrival, someone who'd come on the _Daedalus_.

Sheppard was fumbling with the buttons on his fly, which did nothing for Rodney’s ability to concentrate, but now he had enough of the puzzle pieces to start making a picture. He caught Sheppard's wrists and shifted the temptation of Sheppard's hands away from his aching dick, hanging on to Sheppard as desperately as he was hanging on to the tatters of his self-control.

The sound of raised voices and gunfire had never been so welcome. Hastily, he pushed Sheppard's hands away, trying to straighten out his clothes before their rescuers appeared and got the--sort of--wrong idea.

As the commotion outside drew closer, Rodney snapped his fingers in front of Sheppard's face. "Colonel," he said sharply. "[snap out of it] I suspect that's our ride, and I'm pretty sure you're not going to appreciate having been found in a compromising position.

The commotion outside seemed to have gotten through to Sheppard, too, because when he looked up at Rodney he seemed slightly more lucid, and then he said, "Rodney?" and frowned like he wasn't completely sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Colonel." Rodney forced himself to sound relieved rather than disappointed. "Nice to have you back with us. I suspect that's our ride," he said, nodding toward the door of the hut.

Sheppard licked his lips and looked like he was going to say something, but before he could, the door crashed open and Major Lorne stepped through. Rodney watched as he quickly scanned the room, before turning his attention back to where Rodney and Sheppard were tangled together on the floor. His mouth thinned to a tight line that made Rodney's stomach do a slow, queasy roll, and he said, "Are you all right, Colonel? Doctor?"

"Do we look all right?" Rodney snapped, propping himself up and pulling Sheppard upright with him. "The colonel's been drugged, they took away all of our gear and half of our clothes, and we're damn near hypothermic. Here, help me get him on his feet."

Lorne stepped forward and helped him pull Sheppard up until he was standing between them, arms draped over their shoulders. Rodney opened his mouth to suggest that they get moving, but as he did, Sheppard turned his head and kissed Lorne's neck and Rodney found himself suddenly speechless. He braced himself to take all of Sheppard's weight, expecting Lorne to push Sheppard away at the very least and maybe even take a swing at him.

"Good to see you, Nicky," Sheppard said softly, and Rodney's stomach lurched as color crept up from the collar of Lorne's jacket and suffused his face. Sheppard could still be hallucinating, but Rodney put two and two together and was coming up with Nick Lorne. Sheppard's 'Nicky' had literally dropped off the face of the Earth when he joined SGC.

"Um, sir, I don't think it's a good idea to--" Lorne started, but Sheppard interrupted him with a shake of his head that, really, was just nuzzling.

"It's okay," he said. His head swung around, and the look he gave Rodney was complicated, but more open than anything Rodney had seen on Sheppard before. Sheppard's eyes dropped to where the fly on Rodney's BDUs was still partly undone, then back up to his face. It was apology, acknowledgement, fear and hope. "Rodney's a good guy. I trust him."

Rodney could hardly bear to look at him. Sheppard's eyes were still dilated, and after that moment of lucidity they clouded over again.

Sheppard looked away, and tried to step forward, but his legs weren't ready to take his weight, and Lorne and Rodney held him as he stumbled.

"You'll keep my secrets, won't you Rodney?" And suddenly they were holding a dead weight.

"Colonel!" Lorne said.

Rodney reached over and tapped Sheppard's face. There was no response. "He's out."

"It'll be easier if I carry him myself," Lorne said. "I remember you have a bad back."

Rodney thought he could hear sarcasm in the deadpan. There was probably something else as well, since Sheppard had outed the both of them, so he snapped, "Fine, fine, you carry Colonel Drugged-To-His-Eyeballs. It's not like he's going to remember any of this tomorrow." He stopped, helped Lorne heft Sheppard over his shoulders, and added, "Neither will I."

Lorne turned to look at him, nodded once, and carefully maneuvered Sheppard through the door of the hut.

Rodney looked at them. Lorne was pretty much his exact opposite -- built, military, taciturn.

There were things he didn't want to know, but what were a few more truths, a few more secrets among so many?

 _We must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest._  
\--Nathaniel Hawthorne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Written for lunulet, who said, "I confess I think a Sheppard-drugged-by-aliens fic would be hot." Many thanks to filenotch, who rewrote portions of the story when it wasn't working for me and I couldn't figure out why; to cathexys, who beta'd it in several incarnations; and especially to casspeach, without whom I'd never finish anything.


	3. untitled kidfic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheppard/McKay, kidfic, established relationship.
> 
> Original A/N:
> 
> Third time’s the charm. And now everyone can see why I don’t usually do this kind of “give me a prompt” challenge, right? Because I fail at it. As I said on the previous snippet in this universe: “the kids” are three-year-old versions of Evan Lorne and Laura Cadman. As to why...well, that’s a (much longer) story that’s probably not going to get told, sorry.

“John?” Rodney’s voice drifted in from the main room.

John relaxed into the pillows and tried to keep his rhythm slow and easy as he stroked himself. “In here,” he called out.

Rodney froze in the bedroom doorway, obviously taking in the lazy sprawl of John’s naked body across the bed. The candles lit everything with a flickering golden light that made it hard for John to gauge the subtleties of Rodney’s expression, but he was pretty sure that there were elements of ‘shock’ and ‘really turned on’ in there.

“Not, you know, to discourage you from, um, what you’re doing, because wow, but--”

John grinned at him. “The kids are with Teyla and Ronon, having a sleepover with the Athosians.”

“Oh thank God.” Rodney shrugged out of his jacket, toeing off his shoes at the same time. By the time he reached the bed, he was down to his boxers, the rest of his clothes scattered across the floor in his wake. He slid the boxers off and stretched himself out alongside John, close but not quite touching. “Alone. I can’t believe we’re _alone_. How long has it been?” He paused, barely long enough for a breath and certainly not long enough for John to calculate how long it had been since the last time they’d had their quarters all to themselves. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. We just need to make the most of it, right?”

It was easy enough to let a kiss answer for him, starting with a gentle press of his lips against Rodney’s and slowly deepening it by degrees, his hands coming up to cup Rodney’s face and gentle away the urgency that seemed to vibrate through Rodney’s entire body.

“Easy,” he said, the word mumbled against the stubble of Rodney’s cheek. “We’ve got all night. No rush.”

Rodney was shaking his head, though, his hands stroking restlessly across John’s stomach and chest and shoulders, the press of his erection hot and a little slick against John’s hip. “I want--”

John interrupted him with another kiss, catching Rodney’s wrists in his hands and holding firm. “Easy,” he repeated, pushing until Rodney relaxed and let John shift them, let John push his arms up above his head, pinning his wrists to the mattress. For a long moment there was just the heat of skin against skin, and then Rodney groaned, a low sound that vibrated against John’s chest and his legs parted in what was pretty obviously an invitation.

Settling his hips between the familiar, strong thighs, John let go of Rodney’s wrists and slipped his own hands down until they were under Rodney’s shoulders, where he could curl his fingers up and hold on, could feel the muscles shift and bunch as Rodney lowered his arms and traced feather-light patterns along the length of John’s back. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time they’d had their quarters all to themselves for five minutes, let alone the last time they’d had the luxury to kiss and touch and caress their fill, and he had every intention of taking full advantage of their reprieve from parenting.

Rodney hummed contentedly against John’s cheek as John nipped gently along his jaw and throat before moving back to press gentle, chaste kisses to his mouth. There wasn’t a single thing about Rodney’s mouth that John didn’t love, from the crooked slant that more often than not betrayed Rodney’s moods, to the way it spilled the familiar sarcastic commentary for which Rodney was (in)famous, to the slick red curve of it wrapped around John’s dick.

John’s hips twitched involuntarily at the visual that went along with that thought, and the drag of Rodney’s sticky-damp skin against his dick made him shudder, his breath hitching. As if in response, Rodney’s hands slid lower until he was palming John’s ass, holding John in place as he ground up against him.

“All night, hmm?” Rodney said, and the speculative tone did nothing to ease the ache in John’s dick.

Pushing himself up so he could look down at Rodney, whose eyes were narrowed in thought, John said, “All night. And all day tomorrow to recover.”

He wasn’t prepared for Rodney to arch up under him and he _really_ wasn’t prepared to be flipped over onto his back, his hips pinned down by Rodney’s solid bulk and his protests muffled against Rodney’s wide mouth. The single-minded assault on his senses, no matter how slow or gentle, was intense enough to distract him from any plan of attack he might have had; there was nothing else in the universe like being the sole focus of Rodney McKay’s attention.

[more stuff]

Rodney knelt between John’s legs, palms gliding upward on his thighs, thumbs pressing firm against tense muscle. Leaning forward, Rodney licked a stripe up John’s dick, his tongue wet and warm, and John shivered at the chill that followed. He felt open, exposed, with his hips propped up and his legs spread and the way Rodney was _looking_ at him, like John was the solution to one--or maybe all--of the millennium problems; it was a feeling he still wasn’t used to, even after four years, and that kind of made him think he wasn’t likely to ever get used to it, made him think that every time would be like this.

He was actually pretty okay with that, he decided as Rodney’s finger, cool and slick with lube, gliding over sensitive skin, a teasing promise that made John’s breath catch.


	4. untitled Chain of Command series story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John/Rodney/Ronon/Lorne, fisting porn.
> 
> This is...possibly the dirtiest, _kinkiest_ thing I've ever (not) written. Seriously. Also, it includes a chatlog at the end, showing the ideas I was bouncing around with [anonymous friend] (who, for the record, is _not_ Casspeach; I honestly have no idea why I have no chatlogs with Casspeach re: this story, considering we were co-writing the series--possibly because I knew she'd murder me if she knew I was writing this instead of whatever I was supposed to be working on).
> 
> Oh, also? Pls to be excusing the one-paragraph foray into Rodney's POV. I have no idea what happened there.

John is calling the shots, and he's considered tying Lorne up but decided he'd rather Lorne exercise self-control instead. Of course, since John's not completely evil, he's letting Ronon help a little, sitting on the bed beside Lorne, touching him, grounding him whenever necessary, as Rodney slowly slicks him up.

And Rodney's more than a little nervous, because he's never done something like this before and honestly, you don't have to be an astrophysicist to see that a fist is way the hell bigger than the average dick, and he has some suspicions that it's not actually going to be *possible* to get his entire hand inside Lorne...but if it works...oh, God...the idea alone is so hot.

And John's pacing a little, moving between vantage points so that he can see Lorne's face, make sure that he's really okay, but also see what Rodney's doing, and maybe supply a few suggestions. He's only ever seen this done in porn, but he'll never admit to Rodney that he's not one hundred percent sure of what they're all doing, because the look on Rodney's face when John suggested it...it's like suddenly John was elevated a little more in Rodney's eyes and he'd do anything not to lose that.

But there's no way he's going to risk hurting Lorne, either, so he did take the time to do a bunch of internet research the last time they were on Earth and he's pretty sure that he knows as much as it's possible to know without actually having any practical experience.

And it turned out Ronon's got practical experience that he hadn't previously bothered to mention to anyone, but when it was suggested that maybe he should be the one coating his hand with oil, the glance Lorne shot at Rodney was tinged with panic and, honestly, John doesn't blame him, because Ronon's hands are fucking *huge* and so he decides they'll stick with the original plan.

 **z_rayne:** Either Nick/Rodney or Nick/John, or maybe a threesome.  
Oh, God.  
John ordering Rodney to fist Nick.  
*dies*  
*is ded*  
 **anon:** Yes, please! Yes  
 **z_rayne:** "Yeah, that's it Rodney. Just a little further."  
Nick makes a noise halfway between a whimper and a moan.  
Rodney pushes just a little more....  
 **anon:** ph, yeah  
 **z_rayne:** "How does that feel, Lorne? You should see how this looks. Rodney's fist is all the way inside you."  
Rodney's eyes are glazed.  
 **anon:** *makes a noise between a whimper and a moan*  
 **z_rayne:** Nick's mouth is open, he's gasping for breath.  
"How does it feel?"  
"Good, sir. Amazing."  
"Rodney, how does it feel to you?"  
"Hot. Tight."  
 **anon:** heh - sir. Yay  
 **z_rayne:** Because Rodney's reduced to single-syllable words.  
By the sight of Nick's asshole stretched around his wrist.  
OMG. I need to be not trying to write this now. *dies*

 **z_rayne:** Nick kneeling on the bunk, with Rodney kneeling on the floor behind him.  
John moves around, from behind Rodney to in front of Nick, helping to hold Nick, provide grounding for him.

 **anon:** John behind Rodney watching his fingers going in  
Rodney reaching the point where he gasps, "Oh, god - it's not going to fit, is it?"  
And John reaching forward and putting pressure where it will tuck his thumb just a little tighter  
then with it in  
 **z_rayne:** Oh, God. Before they do this, Nick wants to be tied up.  
But John says no, says he wants Nick to hold still on his own.  
 **anon:** Hee  
 **z_rayne:** Nick's not sure he can do it, but John is.  
 **anon:** MMmmmnnnn  
 **z_rayne:** And Rodney's a little freaked, but also turned on.  
 **anon:** *wiggles*  
 **z_rayne:** And maybe, once he's all the way in, Rodney's jerking off with his left hand, while John stands in front of Nick and lets Nick suck on his cock.  
 **anon:** Ooo  
 **z_rayne:** And Nick's rocking, just a little, on Rodney's fist.  
And he can feel the vibrations as Rodney's jerking off.  
And there's lots of dirty talk.  
 **anon:** oh, god - type faster

 **z_rayne:** So...the rimming in the other one...  
I can't see Rodney doing it.  
 **anon:** ADD much?  
 **z_rayne:** No, just a little fixated. *g*  
 **anon:** I can see John doing it. Or Nick  
 **z_rayne:** John could do it.  
 **anon:** John doing it to make someone lose control...  
 **z_rayne:** Oh, yeah.  
And John could start the fingering.  
 **anon:** Right now you only have one person with an anus free  
well, two people, but it's really hard to rim yourself  
 **z_rayne:** lol  
I was thinking, actually, of the rimming being the start of the scene.  
rimming -> finger fucking -> fisting  
 **anon:** seeing how well Nick could hold still?  
 **z_rayne:** Yeah.  
 **anon:** that means Rodney will beable to feel John's spit as he goes for it  
 **z_rayne:** I think there'll be far more lube than spit involved. *g*  
 **anon:** okay  
*is easy*  
 **z_rayne:** I'm thinking maybe Rodney watches John rimming NIck, watches him start with his fingers, slowly fucking Nick with one, then two then three....  
And he's getting so turned on, and is starting to think maybe this whole rimming thing isn't as unpleasant as he'd thought.  
That maybe it's hot enough that he can get past the unsanitary aspects....  
 **anon:** smart rodney  
 **z_rayne:** If, for instance, John were ever to want to do that to him.  
And then when John's satisfied that Nick is well prepped, he lets Rodney take over.  
And Rodney totally goes overboard on the lube, because he doesn't want to hurt Nick.  
So everything is slick and glistening with lube.  
 **anon:** yay  
 **z_rayne:** And John is very hands-on as he moves around, stroking Rodney and petting Nick's hip.  
 **z_rayne:** Teasing Rodney with his fingers, trying to make Rodney ask to be fucked.  
 **anon:** MMmmmm  
Oh, god  
 **z_rayne:** Gentling Nick when things get intense.  
Brushing kisses across Nick's face.  
Whispering into Rodney's ear about how sexy he looks doing this.  
 **anon:** are we at a point where kisses would surprise Nick or just be expected?  
 **z_rayne:** Hmmm. This would probably be a couple of months post-ropefic.  
So maybe a little surprising, but not like they would've been before that.  
 **anon:** okay, lovely  
 **z_rayne:** *drags self back to other story*


End file.
